


Levi After Dark

by TwistedK



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ace!Erwin, Asexual Character, Body Worship, Bondage, Edging, M/M, Power Play, blowjob, bottom!Erwin, cosplay/costume, rope play, striptease, sub!Erwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedK/pseuds/TwistedK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi glows in different colors, a sole performer, for Erwin alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The name already tastes like sin in his lips.
> 
> “Well?” Levi’s hand extends his hand further, red lips even and straight. Erwin weighs his options again and hands the man his drink. Levi’s fingers brush against his, cold in all sense of the word. “Are you going to keep fucking staring all day?”
> 
> “Would you like that?” Erwin ventures.

There are only two of them at three in the afternoon, waiting for their orders at Starbucks of all places.

It’s not the smooth pale skin on the small frame that draws Erwin’s quiet attention. Neither is it the black sweater elegantly draped across his chest, fitted at the slender arms all the way down to his bony knuckles. It’s not the even _tap, tap, tap_ of the man’s leather boot, dark as his hair and his stormy eyes focused on his phone. No. Erwin stares at one thing.

Or two. What catches Erwin’s attention are those two red lips. Unnaturally red and slightly glossy like the man has been sucking on them. Or perhaps someone else. Erwin wants to--

“Hey, asshole, your order is ready.” Those red, red lips move. Sharp like its lacquered corners.

Erwin snaps his attention up to the dark gray eyes now narrowed at him. He’s tempted to stare at those, too. Another drink is placed on the counter where Erwin’s cup waits so he takes a second to weigh his choices. There are only two of them and he feels brave, fire red like those lips burned in his vision. He takes both cups.

“I can get my own drink,” the stranger says, irritated but without the impatient foot tapping. He holds a hand out with long, expectant fingers. Clean nails with neat nail beds.

“Of course,” Erwin says then examines the side of the cup. “...Levi.”

The name already tastes like sin in his lips.

“Well?” Levi’s hand extends his hand further, red lips even and straight. Erwin weighs his options again and hands the man his drink. Levi’s fingers brush against his, cold in all sense of the word. “Are you going to keep fucking staring all day?”

“Would you like that?” Erwin ventures. He weighs his choices well because those red, red lips quirk at the corner so quickly he almost misses it.

Levi’s cocks a brow at him and takes a sip of drink. Erwin watches him leave a smudge of red on the lip of the cup. “Sit with me then, and keep your mouth shut. I have work to do.”

They take a seat by the window where Levi bathes in the sun. Erwin marvels at him jotting down notes on a piece of napkin as he talks on the phone. Everything is muted out, drowned by the way Levi moves when he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, his hair failing in a dark waterfall to the side. He leaves more red smudges on the lip of his drink and Erwin is mesmerized by the way Levi grabs his cup with pale, dainty fingers clawed at the brim.

Levi moves in calculated steps. Even writes in neat, precise script. He moves with quiet, sharp, dangerous grace, completely out of place in a coffee shop. He deserves a spot on stage, Erwin imagines, moving with a slow and dark rhythm only dancers hear in their souls. And Erwin is his audience, stunned, awed, wanting.

“I’m leaving now,” Levi announces. When he rises, so does Erwin by manners ingrained from a young age. The man takes notice and, there it is again, the quirk of the lacquered corner of his lips.

“I’d like to see you again,” Erwin says without expectation as he hands Levi a business card.

Levi deposits his empty cup on a trash bin and almost throws the card with it. “You big, blond, handsome men and your cards. And I’m supposed to call you because you’re some...attorney-at-law, hah. Swoon while I’m at it, yes?”

“Or you can just think about it,” Erwin smiles. It’s dashing and he knows it for sure because Levi mirrors it. Only it’s not dashing on Levi. It’s dark, menacing. So, so red.

* * *

The next time Erwin sees them is at dinner, on the lip of a wine glass, meeting darker red liquid. Levi chases the drops of wine gathered in the seams of his lips with a pink tongue and Erwin’s mouth fills with the taste of Levi’s name.

“Do you always take your dates to these uppity fucking places?” Levi sneers, gently carving into his bloody steak. All his venom and crass are softened by the crystal chandeliers overhead.

“Only the lovely ones,” Erwin says. His chest swells when Levi’s lips stretch into a proper smile and his small foot nudge at Erwin’s calf.

Levi’s company is quiet and delicious. He cuts his food in tiny pieces and moans around the juicy flesh, chasing it down with the wine. He flushes softly as he traces the tip of his finger on the rim of the glass, holding Erwin captive in his storm gray gaze. They know this isn't an evening for conversation. He’s taken off his shoe, Erwin notes, and he slides his foot farther up Erwin’s leg. There is no table cloth in these kinds of places and Levi doesn’t seem to know shame. He knows he is being watched.

He likes being watched.

And Erwin thinks there is so much to see yet, so he orders dessert, to add a few more moments to the evening that feels all too short. A sinfully decadent chocolate cake arrives, topped with strawberries as red as Levi’s lips. One cup of coffee for Erwin, one glass of prosecco for Levi.

“You don’t like sweets?” Levi asks him coyly, but evil and knowing, as he licks the back of the spoon, dark gray eyes deep in Erwin’s blues.

Oh, Erwin would love sweets like Levi’s name on his tongue. His lips. His--

“Eat, eat. You’ll make me fat with this meal,” he insists, offering a spoon of melting cake to Erwin. He won’t extend far enough for Erwin to take the bite, a subtle come-hither from a not-so-subtle man.

Erwin waits for it. The lacquered red corner of Levi menacing smile, twisting up.

When it does, Erwin carefully leans over the table to meet Levi’s spoon, tasting the underside with the trace of Levi's tongue before letting the chocolate melt against the roof of his mouth. It’s rich, sinful and pales in comparison to Levi leaning over and pressing those red, red lips on Erwin’s.

They’re cold, like Levi, but Erwin burns at the contact. The want that lies quietly under his skin roars into a violent all-consuming fire. He admires so much.

Levi pulls back first, chasing the kiss with a slender thumb swiping across the absence he leaves on Erwin’s lips. Erwin catches Levi’s hand, small and delicate in his grasp, and returns the kiss with his lips on Levi’s fingertips.

He is sweet like sin.

* * *

The color rises to Levi’s cheeks, then down his chest, a stark contrast to the unbuttoned white shirt Erwin slowly peels off him.

They’re in Levi’s apartment in the posh part of town, a fitting background to the bony wrists and protruding collarbones Erwin licks and kisses quietly. Levi is the kind to value these things, the props of his life’s stage. A performer draped in nothing but velvet curtains and a spotlight.

And oh, does Erwin watch him reverently, flushed and open on his lap.

“Would you like to fuck me, Mr. Smith?” Levi drawls.

“No.”

Levi’s red, red lips straighten into a flatline. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not attracted to you that way,” Erwin murmurs against his skin, between kisses that keeps Levi shuddering. “But I am captivated with you, Levi.”

Levi pushes off him, still on his lap, but the distance between their chests is unbearable. Erwin cannot keep his eyes off the flush on Levi’s pale chest, nipples budding in tentative want. Pink and waiting.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Levi asks. The corners of his lips no longer dark and lacquered. Erwin has smudged it with his mouth and his thumb. “So you don’t want to fuck?”

“That’s not what I said,” Erwin responds. They have time. Erwin could spend the rest of the evening just watching. “I do not need to have sex with you to enjoy you. You are magnificent to watch, Levi.”

He slides his hands up Levi’s sides, sending apparent shivers down his body, before thumbing on those pert, pink nipples. Levi inhales sharply. “Especially like this.”

“I don’t want someone who’ll just watch,” Levi says, shaky. Cold and menacing with demand.

At that Erwin, lunges forward and kisses the dip low in Levi’s throat. “Then, tell me, Levi,” he says as Levi wraps his arms around his neck and rolls his hips forward. Erwin feels Levi against his belly. Hard. Needy. “Tell me what you want.”

* * *

Levi arches off the bed with a gasp as he comes in Erwin’s mouth. He feels like sin with lips parted--red, red, and spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka my elaborate excuse for not being able to write smut.lol


	2. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a black crown fitted for the wicked little god laying against his chest, rising and falling with Erwin's breath. He plays with the strands gingerly to not wake the sleeping deity and his eyes catch the bluish gleam of Levi's inky hair.
> 
> Worship suits him, Erwin thinks.

Erwin stares and drowns in Levi's tar black hair, cascading against his skin. It's not a deep brunette, not a deeper red. Not a filthy, dirty blond.

It's a black crown fitted for the wicked little god laying against his chest, rising and falling with Erwin's breath. He plays with the strands gingerly to not wake the sleeping deity and his eyes catch the bluish gleam of Levi's inky hair.

Worship suits him, Erwin thinks.

Levi shifts above him, light and lithe and bare, barely a weight atop Erwin. He is cold with icy toes pressed mercilessly on Erwin's calves. He sleeps quietly, gracefully as if he knows he is being watched even in his sleep. Erwin kisses the top of his black crown and like the princess of grim fairy tales, Levi wakes.

"Hello, little one," Erwin whispers when Levi looks up at him. His slightly swollen eyes slowly focus, turning into sharp silver weapons.

"You've been watching again," Levi greets. He closes his eyes and tilts his head towards Erwin's touch. The movement is almost feline, leisurely and oddly affectionate. Levi's skin remains cold against Erwin's burning.

"Oh," Levi chirps. Pushing up from Erwin, he makes a show of regarding the hardening cock nudging his belly. It sends his hair falling forward, curtains hiding his naked form from Erwin's vision.

Black lashes flutter, on purpose Erwin is sure, as Levi displays his amusement with a twist of the lips and a tiny, wet pink tongue swiping lazily across them. Erwin sweeps back the curtains of black, black hair.

The show must go on.

"Need help with that, Mr. Smith?" Levi asks, taking Erwin's hard cock in his fingers, his iciness sending the man twitching to the contact.

"It's nothing," Erwin insists. "Just wait, it will calm down." 

A god waits for nothing and no one. Erwin learns he is powerless against him.

Levi dives under the sheets and Erwin watches his unholy descent into his blankets. There is nothing that could tear his attention away from that black hair sweeping down his chest, his abdomen, his hip. Flashes of blue where it catches the light.

But the show must be watched with the proper lights. Levi throws off the blankets and Erwin feels the electricity surge in his bones when Levi - forbidding little god with the blackest crown - sits up in his purest form, pale, smooth, contoured and lithe.

"If you wish," Erwin breathes, reverence in his voice apparent.

It appeases the god. Levi takes his time, he owns all of Erwin's, in descending further. He mouths Erwin's cock first, pressing fleeting kisses on it with his lips and the whispers of his long, sullen lashes, waiting for the sacrifice of worship before bestowing his judgment on the man. He licks the head and leaves a burning wet spot and waits with a cold cheek against the inside of Erwin's thigh.

Erwin takes in a deep breath, toes flexing at the coiling want. It pleases Levi so, especially when his only hapless disciple yields so easily under his mercy.

Erwin dares to touch the crown again when Levi opens his mouth, breath hot again his skin, and takes all of him in the cavern of his tiny mouth, a pool of black burning tar, consuming every inch of him.

The last thing he sees is the delighted flutter of lashes and the jerk of his own muscles, the crown of his dark god--his soul is claimed, pitch black and corrupted.


	3. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin watches in awe as Levi trembles with his own doing, eyes rolling back to reveal the soft whites of his eyes, his name broken past Levi’s teeth, toes curling under white nylons.

“Are you done watching, you pervert?”

It takes a long moment for Erwin to rip his eyes from the bleached white ruffles grazing Levi’s bare ass to meet his cold but softened glare over his narrow shoulder. Erwin can’t help but smirk before returning his eyes back to Levi’s ass, following the white garter down his creamy thighs before they clasp on to the edge of the sheer white nylons.

“No,” he says. “You missed a spot.”

Levi bends back over Erwin’s teak coffee table with a snort. It’s a lovely sound, sharp like everything Levi is, with a hint of warmth that Erwin has rubbed into his skin, his muscles, perhaps his heart if he had one. Levi bends from his hips, legs straight and on complete display for Erwin, lounging fully-clothed on his couch.

It hadn’t come as a surprise to Levi when Erwin asked him if he would dress up. Not in the usual way he does because Levi is always dressed up. He leaves his house in full costume of fine shirts and well-fitted pants that hugs his curves and angles, only to come back home and change into another. He likes to think a pair of socks and red lips are costume enough for Erwin.

So Erwin’s question pertained to another kind of costume; the kind Levi tucked away in the back of his closet. The one he pulls out with the feeling of youthful playfulness.

“This is quite becoming of you,” Erwin comments as Levi pretends to wipe his table with a cloth. A little too vigorously, he thinks. Until he realizes Levi isn’t pretending anymore. He’s actually cleaning.

He wants to tell Levi he is cute, he is adorable but knows it will send Levi into a petulant mood. He doesn’t know how old Levi is, only that he is old enough to be served alcohol when he takes him to places he doesn’t look like he belongs to, with his showmanship and shameless play under the table. Places that are not fit for his own brand of luxury. Patrons frown at him and his lacquered lips; desire simmers under their frowns when Levi sways his hips as he walks, making an audience of anyone he walks past.  

But Erwin knows by heart this creature of fantasy, the object of strangers’ envy. He knows the dips and planes of Levi’s immaculate body, soft and pampered in the privacy of his mystery. He knows Levi’s quiet, consuming hunger for attention. He dares to think that Levi hungers only for his.

Instead, Erwin wants to tell him he is adored.

“You would say that,” Levi says, distracted. Erwin, too, is distracted with the way the white frilled hem of Levi’s short black dress hikes up his ass. High enough that Erwin could see the strip of white silk wedged between those cheeks. He remembers, tonight the power is in his hands.

He turns the dial up on the remote in his hand and sends Levi grasping the edge of the table, surprised, gritting his teeth, completely bent over. Erwin takes his time sliding his hand from Levi’s thigh, snapping the garter against his skin and leaving a lovely pink stripe on his flesh before pulling away again to admire it. All colors wear well on Levi, even the absence of it.

Levi groans, his nerves vibrating with the toy inside him, his own aching arousal, and the knowledge that Erwin will not touch him. It feels like lust. It feels like rage. It’s white hot against his veins.

He turns around and sits at the edge of the table, hands and fingers resting wide on Erwin’s knees. He’s porcelain against the black dress fitted like a glove on his narrow body, revealing all it angles to Erwin who watches him with rapture. He slides up and down between Erwin’s knees, letting the bleached white apron pool on his lap and make apparent the erection underneath. He looks up to the man, gray eyes melted in need.

“Let me clean you up, Mr. Smith,” he tries to purr past the grunt in his throat, grazing his cheek on the soft bulge of Erwin’s crotch. He swallows the disappointment at its softness. Erwin makes up for it and turns up the vibrator again.

Erwin adores him so. The pale skin with the rosy tint on the cheeks; his lips parted slightly, pupils blown wide, the flash of teeth as Levi grits past the sensations inside him. A beautiful wreck right at his feet. He nudges his foot under Levi’s dress, pushing against the hard cock underneath it. He pushes Levi to places where attention is not enough, nothing is enough; nothing will sate the need for the hot white blindness that sends Levi’s muscles rippling in orgasm.

Erwin doesn’t fuck him and Levi moans against his thigh, fingers curling on Erwin’s hips.

“Come here.”

He all but scrambles to his feet and moves to straddle Erwin. But Erwin has other plans and quickly turns him around. Even in moments like this when Levi is out of step in his own play, Erwin marvels at his grace that sends the white frills of his dress flying around and down Erwin’s lap.

He takes Levi’s hand, small and soft with his secret potions, and shoves it under the dress, wrapping his fingers around Levi’s, around his leaking cock. Without order, Levi strokes himself and pushes back, seeking the hardness in Erwin’s pants. It doesn’t come.

The white rage in him ebbs and flows in fast tides.

Erwin spreads his legs without effort and grabs him by the back of his knees where the nylon bunches and itches.

“Here.” Erwin takes his other hand and wraps it around his cock. He tenses, afraid to fall in the heat of it all, until Erwin whispers in his ear, “It’s okay. I got you.”

And he does. He firmly holds Levi against him, Levi in black and bleach white, wrecked and ungraceful. He noses against the flushed cheek as Levi’s head is cradled on his shoulder, filling his soul with the rare music of his begging.

Still, Erwin is soft like white feathers stuffed in Levi’s soft pillows.

Levi realizes Erwin really does not lust after him the way he wants to be lusted after. Erwin wants but not in the carnal way the Levi does. Erwin wants to please him in way he that should not. He should be disappointed. And yet, the purity of it--and the strangeness of that word, pure--warms Levi in something less searing, less painful than lust. Less consuming than his insatiable needs. More freeing. More lovely. More pleasurable. More--

Erwin watches in awe as Levi trembles with his own doing, eyes rolling back to reveal the soft whites of his eyes, his name broken past Levi’s teeth, toes curling under white nylons.

He adores him so.

Levi cannot follow his thoughts past the white blindness when he comes under the dress, in Erwin’s good and strange graces.

 


	4. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hands on skin, then mouth, then breath, then tongue, then teeth. He paints Levi purple until he reaches those curled lips, bitten and quiet against his own.

Levi shows up at his doorstep and Erwin is wholly unprepared.

He welcomes himself into Erwin’s home in calculated steps, like the long hard tradition of a dancer. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to, he is invitation incarnate with his pitch black hair, pitch black shirt, pants, soul, and a pair of stilettos in a deep enticing purple that Erwin is sure were crafted just for the soft shape of his feet.

Levi is quiet aside from the _tap, tap, tap_ of his pointed heels, each a needle of a thing holding him high and proud, across Erwin’s hardwood floors.

He follows in awe, captivated by Levi who walks like smoke and dreams, examining his apartment before turning over his shoulder with a sinful curve to the corner of his lips. He is pleased and Erwin lets the unnatural pride swell in his chest.

Then comes another invitation, perhaps an order, a decree that cannot be disobeyed when it comes from the curled, beckoning finger of his quiet prince.

He follows Levi’s _tap, tap, tap_ on his floors in slow, agonizing clicks, counting down to his bedroom. His eyes fixate on the angle of Levi’s hip, down the leg that dances with no music, lower down to those feet, steady and straight atop thin, precarious heels. Levi looks back at him again, this time with a fluid sway of his shoulders. In one, two, three motions, Levi discards his shirt and it falls behind him like ashes from a burning building, the soft silken fabric catching on air, landing softly.

He doesn’t lose a step.

Then he pauses in the middle of Erwin’s hallway. Erwin pauses at the distance, too, afraid to be consumed so easily by something so simple, to burn out before he has the chance to ignite. Levi steps out of his pants without effort, leaving them discarded on the floor and the _tap, tap, tap_ returns without mercy, slow. Steady.

Erwin has seen him bare and open, flushed and not flushed, glowing quietly like this, and blazing in want. It is nothing new, it nothing mundane. But Erwin cannot keep his eyes off those purple heels that fit his feet like they were born of flesh; a smooth, seamless fit between pale alabaster and sinful purple. Curving in down the ankle, out on the heel, down to a tiny purple point that disappears into the floor.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Levi climbs onto his bed, far too large for someone so small, yet he owns every thread on it. He lays in the middle, seated among Erwin’s pillows, purple and almost swallowing his limbs, his ribs, the sides of his petite waist.

Erwin is mesmerized.

Levi crosses his legs at the calves, one purple foot atop the other. Erwin holds his breath. Levi draws a circle with his needle of a heel. Erwin finds permission to inhale.

It takes him one, two, three steps to climb onto his bed that doesn’t feel like his anymore but Levi’s and takes one tiny foot to watch Levi’s lips curl again in menace, in invitation. He presses his lips to it, breathing in Levi’s skin that smells like royalty and luxury, intoxicating and forbidden for a mere man like him.

He kisses the seam of the porcelain and purple, tracing his tongue down the needle, content and wanting to be pierced and bleeding. His hand takes a mind of it’s own and sees for the eyes he’s chosen to close, to trace the curve of Levi’s calf, the back of his knee, the delicate skin inside his thigh.

Levi purrs and Erwin realizes it is not only the sight of this creature that spurs his soul. It’s the sound, the taste, the feel of Levi.

He traces his mouth where his fingers had been, eyes travelling further north to meet the dark, pitch black gaze of Levi who turns pink at the contact. Another invitation. He doesn’t take it yet, drunk and slow on Levi’s scent, Erwin instead tastes him. He bites into the fleshy patch inside Levi’s thigh and revels in the yelp that fills the room, high in delight, as he kisses and sucks.

It turns pink, then red, then purple under his mouth, like the slow but sure corruption of innocence. Like Erwin’s own soul under Levi’s mercy.

Levi caresses the shell of his ear and he chases the touch with his own fingers, letting Levi take it, pull it, press it against his hip until Erwin slides up, up with it. Hands on skin, then mouth, then breath, then tongue, then teeth. He paints Levi purple until he reaches those curled lips, bitten and quiet against his own.

It’s not until the soft flesh of Levi’s ass meets his groin that he’s slowly seduced back to his senses to realize that he is stirred, rigid and wanting. And Levi, oh merciful ruler that he is, lets him want.

“Won’t you come for me, Mr. Smith?” Levi breathes, purple needles crossed against Erwin’s spine, hands flat against the headboard clicking against the wall with each desperate breath.

_ Tap, tap, tap. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...as in purple prose. I'm not drunk, I swear.


	5. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi feeds on Erwin’s audacity, a soft resistance stoking the flame in his gut. Erwin, large and magnificent, lapping like a dog at his feet. It's a beautiful thing and he wants so much to break him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for jen and beau.

“Clean that up.”

His voice rouses Erwin from his quiet moment, feeding Levi pieces of a croissant, watching him eat and sigh and drink. The mechanical sweeping of crumbs on to a dainty cupped hand stops. Instead, Levi sits back on his chair, legs spreading, with golden flakes cradled on the folds of his pants.

“Clean that up,” he repeats.

Erwin holds his gaze as he rises and kneels between Levi’s knees and licks the remnants of food, sweet flecks on not-so-sweet cotton. Above him, Levi sighs. Deep, like the release of something heavy caged in his ribs. He follows the sound, beckoning him to places he’d never been before, corners of Levi hidden in smoke and costumes and fluttering lashes.

“Stay there,” Levi says, hand on Erwin’s forehead, sweeping gold strands and tucking them behind his ear. The words crawl down the back of his neck, down his spine, snaking its way around his belly andㅡ

A pause. Erwin doesn’t question it, mildly surprised that he doesn’t. He waits, wants for permission.

Levi remembers nights when he had been on his knees, hands clasped behind his back, surly, defiant. Submissive. He wonders if he’s looked at Erwin the way Erwin looks at him now. If he’s always looked quite so ready and pliant.

"Red, yellow, green?"

Erwin nods because who is he to say no to this wicked little god rising to power, towering over him like an ivory statue. Who knew Levi was capable of bending, folding into something small and brittle when he looks now like he’s made to rule?

"Off," Levi says, feeling the letters on his tongue, the tone in the cords of his throat. His words are still weak, young, learning. His gaze is not. He doesn't repeat himself and Erwin steps back and sits back on his heels, eyes glued and waiting on Levi.

A sharp curve pulls at Levi’s mouth, tongue chasing after it. Ready to devour this boy on the floor.

With one slow, deliberate hand, Levi takes his cup and pours the tea in front of him. Erwin watches the cold amber fall and pool by Levi's feet, seeping into his hardwood floors.

"Oops," Levi smirks, a slow blooming grace wrapping itself around Erwin’s neck. His blood boils with strange yearnings. "Be a darling and clean that up, too."

Erwin’s mouth is dry, as if to tell him, _yes_. _Drink up_. You are thirsty and Levi is your oasis.

But he is still a man used to Levi bending and breaking below him. He takes too long. Levi reminds that he will be stripped as needed. He is a boy. Levi's boy. A small, precise heel of a foot lands on his shoulder, digging down into the muscle with a firm command.

And Erwin finds his body bendingㅡnot breakingㅡmelting like liquid gold to Levi’s molding.

He bows down, hands framing the pool on the floor, eyes crossing at Levi’s crossing legs before lapping down the tea. Bitter, dirty, like the inkling of shame in his throat. Levi huffs an impatient sound, replacing the humiliation with tight worry. He hangs on for approval and aches for punishment.

"Color."

"Green."

Erwin tenses at the burning on his scalp, delicate fingers harsh on his hair and his head snaps up painfully towards Levi. Dark gray eyes filled with amusement, a hint of revenge, black with hunger. Erwin dares because he knows Levi will blaze with defiance. He will cut off his own flesh to make wings for this creature and watch him take to the skies. He dares to smirk, lips glistening with tea and dirt.

Levi turns cold, petulant and Erwin is on the floor again, contorted, one cheek wet with tea, and the other cold with the arch of Levi's strong foot.

"You think that's funny?" Levi asks. Patient, certain. Playful even. He comes to himself and Erwin marvels at the god rising from the ashes of the boy.

Levi feeds on Erwin’s audacity, a soft resistance stoking the flame in his gut. Erwin, large and magnificent, lapping like a dog at his feet. It's a beautiful thing and he wants so much to break it.

"No."

"No what?"

Erwin is twisted, empty and he wants so much to be broken.

"No...sir."

Something starved stretches across Levi’s face. A single word pushing him to flight and he takes off with the adrenaline in his veins. He is hungry and Erwin would carve himself into Levi’s plate if he asked. He could pick the flesh from Erwin’s head of gold if he wanted. He will not, cannot be denied.

It’s a beautiful thing, indeed.

“Why don’t you fetch me something you can fuck yourself with?”

Erwin unfolds himself, ready and obedient, red-faced and dirty.

"Did I say you can walk?" Levi asks, voice finally silver smooth with certainty, delight, affection. "Mr. Smith, good little boys of mine crawl. Are you a good boy?" 

* * *

 

He sits on the floor on his heels, open and sore, with his cock limp, red, and crusting against his thigh. The muscles on his hips tear with Levi pushing them apart with his feet. Erwin finds his rightful place under them.

Levi’s words are a collar around his neck, leading him to a place where only Levi’s breaths, his words are the beats inside his chest.

_Take it. More. Eyes on me. There. Show me._

And Erwin shows him everything, stripped and skinned, carved. Levi’s grip is pain and bliss on his scalp. He watches bony knuckles, white and vicious around the straining, rigid cock. Erwin vibrates with Levi’s guttural calls, a hot, glistening head brushing against his cheek.

Erwin is broken and beautiful, and Levi, oh Levi will put him back together with bits and pieces of his mercy filling in the empty spaces inside. He wants so much to beㅡ

“I want to be good.”

Erwin lets his mouth hang open and Levi soars.

"Oh, you are golden, my boy." 


	6. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And last, the novena of nine ends with Erwin's ear pressed on the lullaby beat of Levi's heart sending him to dreams of pink, amaranth, coral, and blush. 
> 
> no·ve·na
> 
> noun  
> (in the Roman Catholic Church) a form of worship consisting of special prayers or services on nine successive days.

Levi remains a mystery. Once the performance is over, he takes a gracious bow - a beautiful thing in itself - and recedes behind the curtains of daily life. Erwin never asks to see behind his secrets, more than content in what Levi allows him to witness. 

But the man learns that Levi is just that - a man. Perhaps part boy, part god but a man nonetheless. He comes out steaming and damp from his bath, scrubbed pink from nose to toes, and flops down belly first on Erwin's massive bed in a human trajectory. 

 

But he lands and lays like a fallen angel. 

"I'm tired," he announces, muffled against the sheets and Erwin still prays to that sound, a silent novena, nine times reverent for every exhausted sigh. 

Levi looks over his naked shoulder, a dangerous flutter of dark lashes and Erwin feels small and obedient of unspoken requests, brimming with want to touch the open pores on his skin, to feel his heat escape under his fingertips. To please. To soothe. The memories of a childhood spent in churches awakened by the worship of Levi's temple.

"Can you please rub my feet?" Levi asks. Kind. Shy. Erwin remembers that even the performer retires. That now, he is behind the curtains with Levi. Here, he is not a dancer, not his boy. Not a god if gods can retire. Just Levi and still he is fit for Erwin's adoration. 

He starts with the pink-scrubbed arches of Levi's tiny foot, the first perfection in his pilgrimage. A small thing of ideal curve that gives ever so slightly to the pressure Erwin gives. Levi clutches all of the bundled sheets against his chest, sighing gently when Erwin presses and spreads his toes, revealing all the small spaces and vulnerabilities of him. 

Levi moans and the sound comes amaranth and bright, a burst of relief in the silence. Erwin prays to a second perfect thing, the breaths of a dying star, as he kisses the arch of the foot. Languid whispers of love on lemon-scented curves. 

Another curve, the arch of another foot, find his cheek in a soothing touch. Erwin takes it, he takes what he can, and kisses it too, leaving a trail of prayers pressed on Levi's feet, ankles, cream calves, up with the Father's Prayer on each rosy mound of his buttocks until Erwin leaves another Hail Mary, kisses in threes, to the perfect pink dip of Levi's spine. 

Levi shifts under him, a graceful weight adjusting to its comforts, taking all the space needed to spread and press himself against the bed. And slightly, to Erwin's gratitude, against him. 

"More, Mr. Smith," Levi says, turning his head on Erwin's pillow. "Please," he adds and Erwin gives more for whatever _more_ is isn't enough. 

He finds that behind the curtains, Levi's tight choreography, his incredible dance melts into a sea of deep breaths, breezes among carnation flowers in spring. When he kneads the muscles that have danced and moved and begged for touch, Levi turns from an ivory idol into a pool of blushing silk. 

Erwin rubs his shoulders, unable to resist sweeping back the dark ink strands fanned across Levi's face. It is a new wonder to find a flush of rose on the planes of Levi's cheekbone, softened and lazy with the lullabies of Erwin's touches. He kisses another prayer to it, the fourth.  Then to the ticklish blush painted on the shell of Levi's ear, the fifth. He turns Levi to his back, fluid and spreading like pink champagne.

For every part of him is pretty and pure, even the perfect pinkish cock, resting petite and quiet against a milky thigh. Erwin praises it with an innocent touch, simply to feel it under his skin, a sixth lovely perfect part of this sleeping beauty. 

As if woken by Erwin's touch, Levi opens his eyes, early morning grays rimmed pink with struggle for sleep. Seven times seven, Erwin loses himself lifetimes over lifetimes in them. Erwin kisses the corner of each, each a prayer that rest soon visits this tired man. Boy. God. Angel. 

He finds his own peace beside Levi, watching the whispering breath as sleep visits them, chest rising and falling and Erwin rests with remaining prayers on his lips. He spends the eighth worship pressed on each of Levi's dusky nipples, now soft mounds of nature's kiss and Levi runs his hand through Erwin's hair in the last echoes of thanks. 

And last, the novena of nine ends with Erwin's ear pressed on the lullaby beat of Levi's heart sending him to dreams of pink, amaranth, coral, and blush. 


	7. Prussian Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How lovely it is that the bindings holding Levi together will be his coming undone.
> 
> 1 of 3.

Levi is pretty in Prussian blue.

It’s the color he names the jute rope Erwin presents him after an evening of relaxed negotiations under the thinly-veiled pretense of dinner in Erwin’s home. He praises Erwin for the choice after he undresses in the bedroom without being asked, folds his clothes on the bed then unfolds himself in naked abandon for Erwin.

“Did you know they use this pigment as antidote for metal poisoning?” Levi asks over his shoulder, sweet and venomous like the very threat of poison sits on his skin, with the blades on his back twisting as he stretches up and out. His neck is a slender gift for the taking but Erwin is not a greedy man. So he nods, but he doesn’t know nor does he care. He could be licking thallium off Levi’s shoulder and he would still offer the ropes to him.

Levi faces him as he folds the rope in half in his hands, feeling the smooth thread with anticipation. He wants so much, too much at once, when this lithe little creature steps up to him boldly, slender fingers over his trembling ones.

“I’ve done this before,” Levi assures him, generous if a bit impatient.

“Look up then.”

So Levi does, because he knows obedience looks good on him, and Erwin follows the gentle point of his nose, the arch of his thin brow when he finds the heavy metal ring on the ceiling. “I was wondering when we'd use that,” Levi says, and before Erwin could ask, he adds, “Green. Whenever you’re ready.”

Erwin starts small - a rope over a willing nape offered to him, then a knot on the sternum, then a kiss on the forehead. A knot on the fleshy part right where soft flesh meets bone, a kiss on the ear. A knot on the navel, a hand carding through his hair. A loop around a half hard cock, a tug. Around the balls and a hitched breath. Erwin pulls the loop behind Levi, between the supple muscles of his buttocks, pulls and pulls the echo of a practiced whimper.

Levi follows him with a sharp look as he makes efficient work of wrapping Levi in webs of blue diamonds and blue columns until he is half naked, half caged in intricate harnesses on his chest and narrow hips. Moments are lost to the bloom of pink under the rope and Erwin’s heart races at the imprints digging into perfect skin, proof of Levi’s willing steps into his own captivity.

It is a long and patient affair of wrapping Levi with his ropes, his praises, knotted with soft sighs and secret affections - Prussian blue ropes digging into hipbones, collarbones, ribcage. Levi only raises a brow at him when he kneels in front of his captive. Gently, he folds a leg on his shoulder, weaving lattice and ladder to join Levi’s calf to his thigh - a proverbial breaking of his leg for an evening of performance.

The weight of Levi is secure on his straight leg and he bucks his hips forward in play. The scent of musk and heat consumes Erwin. But this is not part of his plans, he pushes Levi back with a chastising thumb on the dip of Levi’s hip and kisses the neat tuft of hair at the base of Levi’s strained cock. Levi hums above him, a sound of dissent, but stays quiet when Erwin stands.

Erwin holds his hands out and Levi places his in them, a show of trust, small and sure as his captor kisses every sharp knuckle, the softness of his palm, the bump of his wrists. “Thank you,” Erwin whispers when Levi joins them together on his accord and Erwin binds them with his ropes.

Levi pulls his hands over his head, puffs his narrow chest out, while Erwin pulls his wrists back behind his head. He holds Levi close to him, harsh and harsher than necessary as he secures Levi in place to remind him that, tonight, he is bound to Erwin.

“Open your hands for me,” Erwin says and Levi’s hands open like blooming white flowers. He rests a finger on one pale palm and waits for Levi to squeeze. He wraps his hand over the fist and Levi pushes out, delicate petals deceptively strong. They repeat on the other hand. He gives Levi space to pull himself out and hums, pleased, when Levi cannot.

“Good,” Erwin kisses Levi’s closed fist again. “Very good. Color.”

“Green.”

The last ropes are taken out, hemp, new, with carabiner hooks threaded through. Levi suddenly feels soft, fuzzy. Ready. He fixes Erwin a heated look and Erwin reciprocates with a kiss: the last tender one of the night.

"Well done, Mr. Smith," Levi smirks a dark gleam of praise as he studies his own constraints, his struggle for composure only evident with the bead of sweat rolling down his nape. Erwin meets it with equal darkness that consumes the spring blues of his eyes with the steel blue of a biting winter.

Erwin grabs the cross of ropes on Levi’s chest, fingers sweeping against budding nipples while his other hand finds the first bump of his spine. He attaches hooks to the harness - one on the chest, one of the cradle of his hip where his cock, slightly aching, bobs against the cold steel.

Erwin pulls while Levi is solid in his stance - the mark of a creature who owns his imprisonment.

“Fall. Backwards,” Erwin commands softly.

Levi lets himself drop and something snaps into place. He falls, boneless. Exposed.

“Do you know why I’m tying you up, Levi?” Erwin breathes against his ear as he pulls more and lifts Levi without much effort, taking sick pleasure in the way Levi’s loses the single footing he has left. One swift motion and he is a marionette caught in a spider web.

“Because you’re a pervert?” Levi chokes on a sneer, deference softening the bite. His breath catches on a moan when Erwin yanks his bindings, sending an orchestra of pulls and tugs across his chest, tight around his cock, and a large knot pressing against his hole.

“Because, my darling,” Erwin says. “You’ll need something to hold you together while I break you apart.”

Erwin steps back to admire his handiwork: a snow crane caught in Prussian blue bindings with folded wings and a broken leg; the fiercely flushed cock hung heavy between Levi's legs strains and drips with melted snow; heated gaze of one suspended prisoner to his grateful captor.

Yet Erwin is the one captive, captivated by Levi who raises his head with playful defiance. He swings softly with careful obedience. The performance is about to commence and the air is humid with anticipation.

How lovely it is that the bindings holding Levi together will be his coming undone.

"Let's begin, little one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering, the whole finger in hand thing they do is to check for muscle strength during rope play - to make sure that the bound person's limbs are not incorrectly tied or positioned.
> 
> also, it's advised to stand still during the first pull before rope suspension before actually lifting the person so there's as little slack as possible when they're released. that way, they don't /snap/ down in case they're weak or passed out after the scene ends.
> 
> ...according to my rudimentary research so don't quote me. rope play is risky. don't try it without proper instruction.


	8. Cobalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Erwin is a patient man armed with soft affections and a firm hold around Levi’s release, rigid and unyielding despite a clenched jaw caging moans and compliance. He grinds away at the diamond exterior and strokes Levi into blue cobalt, hard still but crumbling and cracking in the spaces between his bindings.
> 
> 2 of 3.

Breaking Levi is like breaking diamonds with bare teeth.

Even when Erwin twists his wrist in a slow tortuous stroke of Levi’s rigid cock, Levi lets out only a trembling breath with his eyes pinched shut, hair matted down with suffering and sweat. He sways to Erwin’s touch but surrender will not break past his teeth.

“Good, very good,” Erwin says and notes the way his pride colors Levi before taking his hold away. Levi gasps as if he had been drowning, without word or complaint.

He follows Erwin with a hard glare, softened around the edges as resolve seeps between his tethers, pouring and cracking on the exposed skin and he’s slowly falling apart with Erwin’s attention. The tension in his muscles relax, granting him a moment’s reprieve from his own hard grasp around his submission.

But Erwin is a patient man armed with soft affections and a firm hold around Levi’s release, rigid and unyielding despite a clenched jaw caging moans and compliance. He grinds away at the diamond exterior and strokes Levi into blue cobalt, hard still but crumbling and cracking in the spaces between his bindings.

“Color,” Erwin’s voice comes from behind him now along with the sounds of something being taken out of the chest resting on his bed. It had been filled with tools for Levi’s undoing. They had been at this for what feels like hours, days. Misery stretches time and Levi cannot wait for it to snap back, painful and biting against his skin.

“Green,” Levi grits weakly, spent and worn but still defiant.

Erwin reappears in view with a silicon cock ring on one hand and his glass of whiskey on the other, threatening condensation from the melting ice. Levi shivers.

“What is it, Levi, that you’re holding back from me?” Erwin asks without really any expectation of an answer. “Hold still.” He places the cold glass on the plain of Levi’s rigid abdomen, relishing the sound of molars gnashing.

Erwin doesn’t miss the small start of a moan at the back of Levi’s throat as he fits the clear rubber ring around a glistened prick. He pushes it down, slow, a gentle mercy to Levi who fights against the spasms and thrashing. There is undeniable power in catching wicked gods in a willing tether like this.

He takes the glass from Levi, grazing the coldness against his belly, wetting ropes and knots along the way before swirling the wet base of it on one pebbled nibble. Levi keeps the groan in his throat, tongue pushing confessions down like bile. Erwin drinks the rest and disappears from Levi’s view again.

In truth, it is not Levi who holds back. It is Erwin. The words on his tongue sit patiently, swimming with the amber burn he drinks, waiting and waiting for Levi to give in. But Levi wants the words sweet and painful against his ear, a rolling standing applause thundering in his body when it comes.

When he comes. If Erwin can make him.

The earth slips from under his toes when Erwin stands between his legs again - one dangling under him, the other tied and folded - and bends down with a whiskey kiss on his inner thigh, too tender then not with a vicious biting suck until it pools red and purple against blue ropes. Cobalt-hard resolve cracks in the middle when Erwin wraps both hands on Levi’s cock, engulfing him in gentle heat, twisting and stroking in opposite directions, and the groan caged in his throat rips out in a shout.

He glows, Erwin observes, with the warmth coiling in his belly that’s pushed down by a rubber ring.

“Tell me, Levi,” Erwin says, leaning closer to Levi’s ear, pushing him swaying and out of balance. His own hardness pressing on Levi’s tight and heavy sac. “What is it that you need?”

Release? No, Levi looks at him with diamond sharpness. _More_. What he needs is more. The ropes binding him are not enough. There is fear in the lines of his body, in the furrow of his brow that shatters Erwin’s heart into cracked gems; fear that if he should let himself break, the ropes are not enough to hold him together.

The metal ring holding Levi suspended creaks, complaining against the sharp arch of Levi’s spine against the thumb pressed against the tip of his cock. A demand, perhaps a blessing. He throws his head back, teeth gnashing around the splintering cobalt pieces of himself.

“Breathe,” Erwin whispers against the knot on his sternum. The voice rumbles against him, commands his lungs to take what they need. The air whooshes past his teeth.

Erwin restarts his movements, hands harsh and loving, rough and deliberate around Levi.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Levi groans. “I can’t. I can’t.”

Perhaps. But Erwin can. He strokes slower, tighter, pushing the rubber ring flush against the rope around the base of his cock.

“You can’t what,” Erwin prompts. “What can't you do, Levi?”

The ropes pull, digging against skin. A knot pushes almost inside him. Levi shakes his head, sweat-soaked hair sticking to his arm. The muscles on his belly coil and roll. His arms sinewy beneath bindings. 

Levi cannot ask for permission. It means surrender. Defeat.

“Fuck,” Levi gasps and this time, there is no reprieve when Erwin pauses and wipes a hand on his pants before stroking his thighs, his raised knee. A questioning look, a knowing look. Levi looks away.

“Levi,” Erwin says with a wicked blue smile. He knows. He knows what Levi needs. Levi’s sharp chin fits in his palm perfectly, easily turned to meet his look, to open his glassy grey eyes and to listen. It digs into his palm when he reaches down, slips off the rubber ring and loosens the knot at the base of his prick.

“You do not need to hold anything back from me,” he whispers, truth sweet and moist around a rosebud nipple. Levi squirms, shivers, useless.

“That so?” his voice cracks and Erwin pries him loose with the recognition that his surrender is not defeat. His submission is not seated in Erwin’s permission. It’s in his own. He only needs to know that whatever he allows to break will be collected, all pieces accounted for and put together. New and unbroken.

"Let me take care of you, little one."

Erwin watches him break, cobalt-hard and brilliant. Diamond pieces shattering at the pinch of teeth, his sound so soft and broken like falling talcum, wet, warm and white against Erwin's hold.


End file.
